Monday, January 21, 2013

I spent rent money on a phone that doesn't work as well as it should, and now I feel bad. It's like, if you pay for something, it should work (TIK). Like when I go to Art Caffe. Why are there flies on food that costs so much?

Long have I kept faithful to my beloved Nokia...but we all know what happens when shit gets abusive (I now own THREE modems. They think I'll stay? They think I'll stay? AIN'T GOT NO TIME FOR DAT.). My Nokias are getting a tad abusive. The C2 was nice for a while, though I did not expect much from it...actually, it's the one saving me now, nisiidharau. The one for now, the E5?

-Flashlight no work
-Adobe no read
-One side earphone no work
-Hang long time
-No do de Twitter multiple accounts
-Switch off when it feel
-Nokia Store be a lie

Monday, January 14, 2013

I was at my mom's, happily acting like a bachelorette (or rather, not really acting. Because I am...) and having my fill of chapos. I piled on some chicken and sukuma and stuck that sweet looking baby in the microwave (except for the chapo. I don't do chapos and microwaves. Takes away the flavour. Becomes watery on the edges. Completely unsatisfying. Chapo on a pan is crisp and loyal to the true taste of every chapo ever consumed.

I take food seriously.)

I joyously take the (half) meal out of the microwave and put the chapo on the plate. I am singing...you know. Joyously.

I drop the plate.

I stare at the shattered glass and shattered crisp chapo dreams before me. Then I decide Germs can't...um...whatever that thing is, I can't think straight because I am busily thinking 'Save the chapo! Save the world!' I put everything back onto the plate.

There are shards of plate in my chapo and chicken. I nearly swallow a few. I clearly have a death wish that day, because I literally notice these agents of the Anti-Chapo Enjoyment Agency (sent by the Microwave Association, of course) milliseconds before I eat them.

I get to the end of the meal in a cold sweat. Why didn't I stop? (Je ne sais pas) Couldn't I have gotten another chapo? (Mais oui) Maybe I wanted a blogpost entitled the most dangerous. Meal. EVER.

My friend met Mr. T at the movies. She told me about it. My heart frantically grabbed an oxygen mask to regulate my breathing into its proper rhythm. Like a dula, I asked, 'Did he ask about me?' Of course he didn't. They never do. And of course, he didn't have the decency to get less attractive. A song started playing in my head (because I live in a movie) 'fire in her eyes/fire in her eyes/something something she's got fire in her eyes/' only replacing the her with his... '/I love her scandal/'...

That boy is dangerous, but I need to not see him. Sijui I hama. Not the most dangerous meal ever...but he was a tasty one.

Friday, January 11, 2013

Certain things make me weak at the knees. Chocolate men wearing loafers who are bald and have accents...or just chocolate men. Chocolate delicacies, like a Snickers bar. A good book at a great deal (just bought the ENTIRE Chronicle of Narnia series for a sock. Mind = blown, and, well, knickers...). Good food. A fantastic beach. A backrub. The little things.

The little things can also be the vices. I like to eat, and I do it a lot, and I do it well. I may not do it too healthily though. I like money (like everyone). And so the other day I found myself standing by those Kenya Charity Sweepstakes stands and looking at one ticket longingly. One of my boys was with me and he decided he can be the money and I can be the good luck charm. We lost a sock, but won 6 sock. I am not sure this is going to end well.